To Life
by sylphides
Summary: My first fanfic! Seventh year, HP, HG, and RW return to a different Hogwarts run by DE and Snape. A story of learning to forgive, and work together and live each day like it's your last since it just might be. Discontinued!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not possess the fine assortment of cast members, except for the Storyteller in the beginning. Alas, only J. K. Rowling has that distinct pleasure.

A/N: This is my first fanfic, although I've been reading a lot of them. It'll probably be a pretty long story, and lots of background and build up in the beginning before any real action, but I expect to cover the entire seventh year and final battle so hang in there, and review please!

----

"_They say that in this age, there are no heroes. Only the taunting, endless quests for something elusive. The grand finale slips through our hands like wisps of once-whole dreams, now fragmented by violence into shreds, ghosts of the past. Some are of power, of wealth, of glory. Others, the longings of adolescent girls, whisper of romantic liaisons and beautiful children."_

_The Storyteller looked at his enraptured audience, and knew she had them. In a time where magic no longer pulsed through the veins of the earth and into the people inhabiting its surface, any lore of magic was enough to draw many listeners into the weave of her tapestry of tales. Anything to forget, for a moment, the utter darkness that cradled and engulfed them all, those who should have had magic and knew that there was a missing element in their bodies. Anything to forget the earth's rejection of her children._

_She continued. "Once, in this world, these dreams were a glorious cascade. The visions were butterflies, fragile and fleeting, but alluring. One of these butterflies, scarlet and blue and silver and yellow, perched in the hollow of my soul, and I Heard._

_This is the story the butterfly told me…"_

_-----_

"Could you _be _any more obvious, Harry?" Hermione poked her black-haired friend in the shoulder. Hard.

"Ouch! That hurt! And I really don't know what you're talking about, Hermione," Harry protested, rubbing his shoulder. Hermione tilted her head up—_when had he and Ron gotten so tall?—_and smiled innocently, a smile that instantly put both boys on guard. Hermione's "innocent smiles" usually foreshadowed something unpleasant or embarrassing, just as certain as a Slytherin's smirk.

Hermione, the picture of naivety, murmured, "Well if you really don't know what I'm talking about, you must have been even more engrossed by the sight of Pansy's behind than you already seemed to be." Harry immediately turned as red as the infamous Weasley hair, and one of the aforesaid Weasleys cracked up, laughing uncontrollably at his best friend. Hermione merely blinked, her mouth still turned up in the slightest ironic—in fact, one would say almost _Slytherin-ish—_smile.

Ron's gales of laughter led Ginny straight to the compartment they were in. The Hogwarts Express chugged doggedly away, bearing its burden of students once again to the famed school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ginny peered in, throat tightening unexpectedly as she did. There was her brother, rolling on the floor in stitches, and her two best friends in various stages of emotion. Well, just Harry. Hermione was a different story all together. Ginny didn't know where she had learnt such brilliant acting skills, but over the summer before her seventh year, Hermione had definitely revealed some interesting facts about her life.

Facts didn't change the overall course of things. This was the year. One of her best friends would face down evil incarnate and either kill or be killed. The other two would be in the fray, backing him and protecting him. And she? Despite her mother's desire that she stay home safe, she had no intention of doing so. She was no longer the eleven-year-old, longing to be noticed, easily manipulated by talking diaries and shadows. This summer had seen the leaders of DA—Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Luna, and Neville—in intensive training in defense and offense of the dark arts. She wasn't ready to die yet, but she was ready to fight.

"Hey guys." Ginny strolled in.

"Hi Gin! Have you seen any of the…others?" Hermione beamed at the girl, all business now that her wisecrack had borne fruit.

Ginny lowered her voice. "Neville and Luna should be here at any minute. We need to do what Miner- what Professor McGonagall reminded us to do." Over training, McGonagall—along with several other faculty members teaching them—had given them permission to use their first names, as long as it didn't slip once they reached school. The training had been in secret, held at Hermione's very well warded house.

Or mansion more like. Hermione Granger was very well off, the sole heiress of the estates her mother's family line had passed down since being awarded it by the King of England for a huge service rendered to him. Hermione grimaced. She hated being known for her wealth. It was why she had sworn Headmaster Dumbledore to secrecy before she agreed to attend Hogwarts. It was the same reason her parents had chosen to work as dentists, as common and as close to normalcy as they could find.

Hermione brought herself out of her musings abruptly, realizing that the others were looking at her expectantly. "Yes, once Luna and Neville get here we'll have a short debriefing, and then you guys can start the recruitment process okay? Make sure to be subtle. I'll find you guys after I'm done with my Head meeting. Don't do anything…rash." Her eyes locked with Harry's reminding him of promises made over the summer. Ron opened his mouth, and if Hermione wasn't mistaken he had been about to hurl an attack on Hogwarts being under the control of Voldemort, but closed his mouth again. She smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. They had all learnt over the summer to keep their tempers mostly under check, or suffer the consequences. Raging emotions in an unguarded area, with Death Eaters floating around on the train, was not a good idea.

As Luna and Neville slipped in and Hermione raised her wards to protect their conversation, she thought, _this is what Hogwarts has come to. Run by the murderer of the previous headmaster, and by Death Eaters assigned to discipline the students and scare the muggle-born. Voldemort doesn't have quite enough control to completely turn us out, but he can make life as hard as he can for us._


	2. Chapter 2

Draco Malfoy sat silently in the Heads compartment, waiting for whoever was Head Girl and for Professor-no, Headmaster Snape, to show up. He was exhausted, and though he was relieved that Snape would be in control at school, he knew his role would not be an easy one. _But better than the one Snape has to play, I'd say. Blasted Dumbledore, using all of us like pieces on a chess board! He's consigned all of us to hell. _He wished with all his might that he could just go back to the days when he had believed, truly believed, in the pureblood supremacy, and had been so mortally offended by Potter's refusal to shake his hand. Now all he could think about was the smell of blood and the screams of dying people. He hadn't taken the dark mark yet. He was expected to on his eighteenth birthday, and never had he been more grateful that he was young for his year—he wouldn't turn eighteen until May.

The door slid aside, and he looked up. Granger. He should have known that with her enthusiasm for books and learning, she'd be Head Girl. Although he wondered just how Snape had convinced the Dark Lord that it was necessary that the Head Girl be a mudbl-muggleborn.

Hermione couldn't say she was astonished at the fact that Draco was Head Boy. After all, he was pretty smart, albeit arrogant, and he was pureblood and his father was high in the ranks of Death Eaters. What surprised her was that she had been appointed Head Girl. With Snape running the scene and Death Eaters crawling around the school, she would have thought that all the muggleborn students would be targeted and ostracized.

The silence lengthened as she first surveyed the compartment, then Malfoy's shadowed face, and continued on as she strode to the seat on the far end of him, sat, and dug out a book.

The next ten minutes passed in uncomfortable quiet, the tension at a level high. Malfoy could practically see the accusations forming on the inside of Granger's head, and he was getting extremely nervous at her continued silence. It didn't feel right. She always had something to say. _You lived up to everyone's worst expectations. You're a coward. Would be killer. Death Eater. The Enemy. _

But she remained silent.

She, meanwhile, was on edge. Malfoy she could deal with. He was still her age, whether or not he was on her side. All teenagers make mistakes, and she had a feeling he had had a hard summer. _Haven't we all. Her parents…no. Don't think about them. Don't think about the looks on Mum's face when Dad was cursed to death. Don't think about killing, how it feels to have that curse race down your wand to end your torturer's life. Don't think about obliviating your own mother, and sending her to Australia unaware she had a husband or daughter, just so she could be safe. _

The door to the compartment opened again, and this time Hermione did tense. _There. _He stalked in, complete with dramatic flourish and all, and her own heart seized. She had thought she was ready, to face Dumbledore's killer. She had known she would have to be ready, especially being Head Girl. She would be the one facing him the most out of all her friends. She just hadn't factored in the wave of nausea and anger that swamped her when he swept in as if he bloody well owned the entire train, still alive while Dumbledore was dead.

_Breathe. Count. You are stone. You are stone. You show no emotion, feel no feelings. _Her hands were clenched, her teeth gritted, but other than that, no other outward sign manifested her hatred and fear of Snape.

The dark professor studied both of them for a second, then abruptly began. "You two have been given the highest honor which Hogwarts awards. You have been selected Head Boy and Head-" here he sneered "Girl. Together, you are responsible for the wellbeing of your peers and fellow students, and to set a good example to those around you. As such, you will follow the laws of the school, including the new ones set into place just this term, and not question them. You will consult me before you decide a thing. Do not bother me with trivialities, such as the color of the room decorations for any upcoming balls. You both know your duties, I won't waste my time on repeating them. Good luck." He turned around and left. Hermione had barely heard a word. She was too busy trying not to leap on Snape and strangle him. Her breathing, once he left, became erratic and visions passed her eyes. _Blood. Death. Her parents. His eyes, on her back- she could feel them watching her as Bellatrix crucio'd her gleefully. Her father's blank eyes. Her mother's shrieks. The dark mark. _

Malfoy had watched, bemused, as Granger immediately tensed when Snape entered. He had been impressed at her self-control. He supposed he would have wanted to kill Snape, had he been in her shoes, and yet she sat there, cool as a cucumber, while the man she considered a killer lectured them, threw a barb at her, and left. Then he had gone, and Granger's breathing increased. Curious, he turned to her. Just as she started seizing.

_Shit. _What was he supposed to do? "Granger!" He tried to grab her arm, but her erratic movements got in the way. Panicking, he ran to the door and peered out and noticed the distinguishable red hair of a Weasley.

"Oi! Weasley!" It was the girl, Ginny, and she approached with eyes narrowed. He wasted no time on niceties. "Weasley, Granger's convulsing on the floor of the Head compartment."

Instantly the suspicious look was replaced by one of fear and despair. Without a word, she pushed by him roughly, and went straight to Hermione. "Hermione. Hermione! Ginny glanced up at Draco. "Malfoy, go get Ron and Harry."

"_What?" _

"You heard me. Go get them. _NOW!" _He had never heard that demanding tone in his life, and his instincts spurred him into sprinting before he could question his own logic at running at a Weasley's beck and call.

He skittered to a stop when he saw Potter and his friend, along with several others, gathered in one compartment. He opened the door without ceremony, and immediately found himself on the pointy end of seven wands. "Hey, watch it will you? I'm not here to play games. The Weaselette told me to get you. Granger's convulsing on the floor on the Head compartment."

Potter's eyes widened, and he looked over at his red-haired friend in silent agreement before both knocked Draco aside in their all-out dash for the door. Perturbed, he picked himself up and moved to follow at a rapid pace, wondering what it was all about. He wanted to see what was wrong.

He arrived just in time. Potter and Weasley stopped, and Ginny—currently sitting and holding the still-seizing Hermione's head, looked relieved. "Hermione!" Malfoy observed as, in practiced moves, Harry knelt by Hermione's left and forcibly grabbed her arm, pinning her down, and Ron did the same on her right, while Neville took her legs. Ginny continued holding her head she wouldn't harm herself. A blond girl—Luna—thrust her hand into her pocket, and came up with a vial. Ginny braced herself, and Luna poured the liquid down Hermione's throat.

The effect was instantaneous. Her body relaxed, and though she coughed once or twice, none of the potion came back up. Her breathing began again. _When had it stopped? _She felt so tired. "Hermione?"

The timid voice was Ginny's. Hermione struggled to open her eyes, and somehow summoned the strength to croak, "Hi guys."

The tension dispelled as the boys holding down Hermione let go in relief. Harry sighed. "I'm sorry Hermione. I should have known, what with the stress, and the- and other things, a seizure might be triggered."

Hermione sighed herself. "And it's not your fault. All of you. None of you are to blame for it. It just happens." She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. That was when she smelt it. Him. The smell that she always associated with him: the herbs used in potions, cinnamon, a hint of mint, and something muskier. Her eyes popped open, and she frantically scanned the crowd she had inadvertently drawn to the door of the compartment, before landing on a shadow near the back. _Snape. I knew it. _Her breath caught.

"Hermione." Ron's voice clued her in, and she smiled weakly.

"I'm fine. I don't think I seized for that long. It just felt that way. I'd just like to rest for a little while, maybe." Her friends nodded, and Neville and Ron formed a chair with their arms and boosted her into it so that they could carry her back. She put her fear and anger away to purge another day, and gratefully welcomed sleep.

----

Draco had also noticed Snape standing and watching as Granger went from full-on seizure to lucidity again. When the crowd cleared, he sidled up. "Sir?"

The man looked down. "What is it, Draco?"

"What _was _that?"

Severus Snape raised an eyebrow. "By _that _you mean Miss Granger's…actions?" Draco waited. Snape said nothing for a minute, then smiled humorlessly. "You will find that muggleborn witches are more prone to muggle diseases than purebloods, and the biases towards the muggleborn in the past has prevented very many studies being done to treat muggle diseases that do not generally affect the pureblooded population."

Draco looked at his mentor quizzically. "Um…sir?"

Snape sighed. "Perhaps it might behoove you to spend some time in the library, researching incurable muggle diseases. Know thy enemy, Draco." He stalked off. Draco stared after him. Honestly, the man was getting more and more cryptic each day.


	3. Chapter 3

"Epilepsy."

They had been at Hogwarts for a week, and Draco was visiting Snape, who continued to inhabit the dungeons despite his change in status to headmaster. Surprisingly, the students had seemed subdued, fearful, and resentful, but none had exhibited a true rebellion. Yet. Not even Harry Potter.

Snape looked up from his study of his cup of tea.

"Epilepsy," Draco repeated. "It's got to be. It matches the symptoms of Granger. Seizures. Incurable. Muggle. She must have developed in as a child. Although how she never seized in school before until seventh year, or it never spread beyond the Gryffindor House, escapes me."

Snape glanced moodily at the fire. "You are correct, Draco. Epilepsy was my estimate as well, and I took the liberty of perusing…Dumbledore's files on Miss Granger. She did develop it as a young child, but the seizures were rare and small, and she took medicine to suppress it. She requested, among other things, to hide her condition from her peers. Not even the teachers know, except Professor McGonagall."

"So why…"

"Why now? Why do her friends suddenly know and look like veterans when dealing with a seizure?" At Draco's nod, he answered his own questions. "I believe, if my spy in the Order was not lying, that Miss Granger has been researching a way to treat her condition or cure it better than the muggles have. Judging from the unfamiliar potion her friends got to her, she has at least succeeded in treating the seizures when they are taking place, if not cure the cause of them. It is a neurological mishap, overloading the brain with too many electrical impulses. You do remember the celebrations this summer when Miss Granger's parents were…eliminated, do you not?" Yes, Draco did. He listened raptly. "I was there. I did not do anything, but Bellatrix did crucio Miss Granger several times before she managed to do a summoning spell and have us fleeing from the Order."

Draco's mind whirled. "Cruciatus…didn't you have me research that as a fifth year? It is a curse that targets the nervous system, and the brai-" his eyes widened.

Snape nodded. "Yes. Cruciatus targets both the nervous system, stimulating the hot and cold impulses erratically to cause pain, as well as the neurons of the brain. That is why the curse causes trembling not unlike a seizure. I expect that experiencing the curse only aggravated her condition. The muggles still don't know entirely what causes it, or how to stop it completely. I'm sure you've read that a person seizing for too long will eventually either die or cause brain damage. You can guess what happened at the Longbottoms some years ago, then."

Draco gulped.


	4. Chapter 4

_Punch. Low kick. Two high kicks. Back. Punch. Low kick. Two high kicks. Repeat. _The dull thud of someone on a punching bag was speeding up. Hermione frowned. The rhythm was off. Somehow, whoever was practicing their routine was out of sync. She sped up, intending to pop into the room designated for practice in both muggle and magical defense and offense—

And woke up, gasping, when her alarm's obnoxious tune cheerfully assaulted her ears. The thumping was someone pounding on the door of the Gryffindor girls' shared common bathroom. Faintly, she heard Lavender's voice cry, "Oi! Parvati! Its my turn to use the bathroom first, you promised!" And an even more distant, outraged and garbled reply.

_Oh. Right. We're back at Hogwarts. _Hermione checked the time, and saw that she had plenty of time considering she had a free period this morning since she hadn't chosen the Divinations elective class. She settled back down into her pillows on a sigh. _It's going to take some getting used to fitting back into a normal student life again. Classes, listening to squabbles over bathroom hogs, no freedom. But then, less stress than over the summer, I suppose. _

Hermione closed her eyes and thought over the end of sixth year and the summer that had whipped her and her friends into shape. First had been the shocking murder of Dumbledore, of course. The little twist in her heart at that thought was familiar, and Hermione determinedly ignored it. She had trusted Dumbledore, trusted him with all her heart to keep herself, her friends, and her family safe. And what did he do? He went and died on her for the same fault she had found in herself: misplaced trust.

Which led to Snape and Malfoy. Again that ache. Hermione didn't kid herself. She had liked neither man nor boy. One had been the professor no one wanted to face, and yet he had protected her and Ron and Harry for so long, the abrupt betrayal left her tumbling and disoriented, the rug firmly yanked from under her rhetorical feet. The other was the bane of her existence, the sharp and painful reminder that she didn't belong to this world of magic and wonder she had found herself in.

But.

She couldn't put her finger on the whirling emotions that physically shook her body when she thought of either of them. In fact, it felt just like right before an epileptic seizure.

God, her seizure. On the train. She didn't remember much of it, only the sheer anger and bitterness in her veins and the fuzzy exhaustion of afterwards. Hermione clenched her fists. If only she had had the training she now knew when she had been caught by Bellatrix! Dumbledore's death had left so many people and information sources vulnerable. With everyone operating under that haze of numb grief, no one had remembered until it was too late what might happen to the wards the headmaster had put up for the muggleborn families of Hogwarts. Voldemort had pressed that advantage, and Hermione's parents were the casualties of that carelessness.

She had never been close to them. They were either at work, or in their own rooms at the mansion. She was taken care of by a nanny, then at an older age, just simply a hired maid. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had tried their best to submerge themselves into normalcy, but had not planned on having any children entering the equation.

But oh, how she wished she could have prevented their deaths! No matter their faults, she still loved them, and when she had found their bodies dumped unceremoniously on the stairs leading up to the front door, she hadn't noticed Bellatrix and several other Death Eaters surrounding her until it was too late.

Being crucio'd felt too much like a seizure, except with more pain. _I should have noticed the corollaries before, _Hermione mused. _After all, I know epilepsy inside out. _She knew McGonagall knew about her condition, but she really hadn't wanted anyone else to know. Of course, seizures tend to strike at the most inopportune times, and she was just grateful she had managed to wait to seize only after Snape had left.

---

Harry grimaced at Ron's inane chatter following him out of the room as he strode to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. "Honestly Ron, you'd think that after living in the same house all summer and training together intensively to get ready for…for whatever happens, you'd know by now that I hate mornings."

Ron grinned. "Exactly. Why do you think I talk extra loud in the mornings, mate?" Harry groaned and flicked water in his friend's direction. Ron skipped out of the way, and continued, "But I will say, it's much easier to annoy you here since we share a room and all. Who'da thought Hermione would have such a big house? She never told us."

"Yeah, well there are a lot of things she never told us."

"Like whatever she said to you that day after her parents died that stopped you from going by our original plan of finding the Horcruxes this year?"

"Ron…"

"All right, I know, we've been through this. It's personal and you're not ready to tell me whatever dirty secret she has on you that stopped you like a bloody hippogriff charging your way!" Ron sighed dramatically.

Despite his regret at keeping his best friend in the dark—_but truly, it isn't my secret to tell! It's Hermione's, and she was right in keeping me on track for school!—_Harry smiled at Ron's remark. "Oh yeah, wouldn't you like to know?"

Ron, already exiting and heading to the common room, turned back and winked. "Wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the fact that you were very much engrossed with Pansy's fine back view, was it?" As Harry spluttered and choked on his toothpaste, Ron's laughter bounced off the ceiling. "S'okay mate, she's not dating Malfoy or anyone from what I hear, and Dad says her family haven't been connected to anything dark-lordish yet!"


	5. Chapter 5

The tension was almost palpable by the end of the first month at Hogwarts. In fact, to Ginny's mind, that the boys, namely Ron and Harry, had not snapped yet was a miracle. Of course, it helped that the two main antagonists, Malfoy and Snape, stayed largely out of public view and Harry and Ron, with their newly learnt self-control from over the summer months, managed—just barely—to tolerate their presence at mealtimes and certain classes. Not only that, Snape no longer taught Potions and Malfoy seemed to fade into the shadows at the back of each class they shared.

But the tension at Hogwarts continued to swirl.

It finally congealed into a monster on the first day of the second month, a Friday. Ginny would look back on this day as almost supernatural. No matter that it was a completely ordinary Friday. It wasn't the 13th, it wasn't full moon, and it wasn't any special day.

It was the day the Ministry owl brought a black-bordered envelope to each of the Weasley children.

She stared at the impatient owl offering her the evidence that someone in her family was dead, and she couldn't comprehend it.

"Ginny?" Harry put a hand on her arm, concerned, and vaguely she saw out of the corner of her eye, her brother Ron swallow reflexively and Hermione imitate Harry's uncertain motion.

"It's for me." Ginny thought, later on, that she must have been in shock, stating the obvious and staring at the owl like that. At the moment though, she could only comprehend the fact that there was a black envelope addressed to her, and that the owl was unusually large for its species.

She must have managed to open it somehow, because the next she remembered from her spotty memory, her eyes were being assaulted by the bold, ornate words "BILL WEASLEY" printed neatly, next to the blurring lines of "regret to…killed in a Death Eater attack…am truly sorry for your loss." Nearby, Ron gave an inarticulate cry of grief, and Ginny became aware of the thick, hot tears rushing down her cheeks and onto the funeral notice of her brother.

"Not Bill! Oh god, Bill…he's married, he just got married to Fleur, he's supposed to be happy…" she protested feebly. Ginny barely noticed as Harry and Luna gently led her away to the hospital wing, with Hermione and Neville tugging at a frozen Ron, the horrified eyes of the students and teachers at Hogwarts on the two youngest Weasleys.

It was Ron's voice that cut through her fog of disbelief. Shaking off Hermione's retraining arms, he turned around and looked at the teacher's table. No, at Snape. "You bastard! You evil, lying, murderer! This is all your fault, your fault that Dumbledore's dead, your fault this entire year is screwed up, your fault that my brother is _dead_!"

The DADA professor, a barely concealed Death Eater by the name of Carrow, began to point his wand at Ron and reflexively, Hermione and Harry jumped in front of their friend, their wands out as well. Luna and Neville continued to flank Ginny. Carrow's eyes narrowed. "_Crucio!" _Too late, Snape jerkily grabbed at Carrow's arm. Harry shoved Hermione out of the way, and the curse hit him full on.

Collectively, the entirety of Hogwarts, including the Slytherins, jumped up. They knew, intellectually, that Hogwarts, under the control of Voldemort, now sanctified the use of _crucio _and _imperius,_ but these had not been used thus far. Now, as they watched a Harry writhe on the floor in pain, he wasn't just the boy would-be savior of the world—he was a fellow classmate being tortured by a dark curse.

_"Stop!" _The effect of the reverberating voice, along with Snape's summoning the wand, broke the curse. Carrow spun and glared at Snape. Snape was up now, in his element, his dark cloak emphasizing his height. He looked like every inch a Death Eater, and more than one student shrank back at the sight. But his fury was focused on Carrow. "Carrow, I gave _explicit _orders, and I gave them for a reason! As such, I expect them to be obeyed no matter what. You fool! Do you forget who is the higher in rank?"

The man paled. Hermione, breathless from being unceremoniously saved by her friend, crawled over to Harry. Luna and Neville exchanged significant glances. They knew that the "ranking" was not just that of headmaster and professor, but of the most favored to Voldemort.

Ginny somehow found herself clutching Ron's trembling arm as if it were a lifesaver. Ron continued to glare at Snape and Carrow with unmitigated hatred. But when Ginny looked up, her eyes met cool grey eyes that seemed to understand her plea for someone- anyone- to make it all go away. Those eyes were filled with regret, or something similar to it, and a comprehension of the horrendous way life had tilted on her and left her flat on the ground.

She was aware, on some level, that Snape was chastising Carrow, and that Carrow and the rest of Hogwarts had sat down shakily again. She also knew that somehow, Snape was avoiding Ron's accusing stance, and had summoned Madame Pomphrey to take care of Harry and Ron and herself. All of the reality slid away for an uncertain moment as she _looked _into those grey eyes, and knew that someone understood her soul.

Then she welcomed oblivion as she was led away to a bed in the hospital wing, darkness swallowing her pain whole.

---

Draco stared at his sweating palms, not hungry after that unsettling display. He hadn't thought Carrow would directly contradict Snape's orders not to use the Cruciatus on any student and especially not in public, or on Potter or his close friends. _Too risky, _he had said, and the Dark Lord had agreed despite sanctioning the use of the Unforgivables.

He was grateful that one of the three had finally snapped, though, and confronted Snape. It had been coming, what with all the tension building, no matter how much self-control the three had been learning over the summer. It had taken a Weasley's death. Bill Weasley.

He hadn't known until it was over that Bill had been the target of the latest attack. Snape hadn't known either, he had gathered from the stunned look on his face when the owls stopped at the Weasleys. Rationally, he could see why. A blood-traitor, and a newly-married one at that: the best target to strike as much damage as possible, with the marriage and joy still so new.

And the youngest Weasley's eyes…

He had looked at her in a moment's unguarded sympathy, and she had looked up and caught his uncensored gaze. Pure confusion and grief spilled out from her eyes, and he couldn't help but allow her to see his wordless empathy and comprehension for the emotions she had to be feeling at the moment. Her returning glance of gratitude had been unexpected, and hit straight at his heart, and now he wasn't hungry any more.

----

A/N: Folks, please review. I live on other people's suggestions and reactions!


End file.
